{"id":4201,"date":"2025-07-15T07:52:03","date_gmt":"2025-07-15T14:52:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/?p=4201"},"modified":"2025-07-15T07:52:54","modified_gmt":"2025-07-15T14:52:54","slug":"a-eulogy-for-my-mother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/2025\/07\/15\/a-eulogy-for-my-mother\/","title":{"rendered":"A eulogy for my mother"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Mom Pictures\" width=\"629\" height=\"472\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/KEWvKwheRi4?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #993300;\"><em>I created <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=KEWvKwheRi4\">the video above<\/a>, including the music, which was shown at my mother\u2019s funeral. I spoke the following words to all the people who came to say goodbye to Mom on April 15. Today is the one-year anniversary of Mom&#8217;s head-on collision. I&#8217;d like to remember this day with the positives Mom contributed to the world. I hope you can forgive any typos that remain.<\/em><\/span><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>No one likes to talk about death. No one likes to think about death. It\u2019s an uncomfortable part of life that we shy away from it. It is difficult to measure. We don\u2019t actually know what happens after. It is not an experience we can have and then report back on. We know, physically what happens to our cells and tissues as they break down post mortem, but it is more than biology. In 2005, Physicist Aaron Freeman spoke to NPR about what happens when the body takes its last breath. In his discussion, he said you want a physicist to speak at your funeral. I am not a physicist. I am a writer, so I hope Aaron can forgive me for modifying his speech today.<\/p>\n<p>In physics, there is a term known as the conservation of energy. Mom\u2019s energy has not died. The first law of thermodynamics says that no energy gets created in the universe and none is destroyed. All of Mom\u2019s energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was my beloved mother remains with us in this world. Amid the energies of the cosmos, Mom gave as good as she got.<\/p>\n<p>All the photons that ever bounced off her face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by her smile, by the touch of her hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by her. All the photons created within her are constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.<\/p>\n<p>All our energy gives off heat. Mom\u2019s heat and warmth that flowed through her is still there, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.<\/p>\n<p>There is no need for faith because you can measure just like the scientists have, precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable, and consistent across space and time. You can examine the evidence and satisfy yourself that the science is sound and that you can be comforted in knowing Mom\u2019s energy is still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of Mom is gone; she\u2019s just less orderly.<\/p>\n<p>As such when you light a candle, don\u2019t just think of it as an object that brightens a room. The candle represents all life. \u201cWe&#8217;re all born as molecules in the hearts of a billion stars, molecules that do not understand politics, policies and differences. In a billion years we, foolish molecules forget who we are and where we came from. Desperate acts of ego. We give ourselves names, fight over lines on maps. And pretend our light is better than everyone else&#8217;s. The flame reminds us of the piece of those stars that live inside us. A spark that tells us: you should know better. The flame also reminds us that life is precious, as each flame is unique. When it goes out, it&#8217;s gone forever. And there will never be another quite like it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And I want to tell you about this one particular flame, who has been a part of my life for 54 years. I am under the firm conviction that Mom was never ready to be a young, single mother, thrust into a cruel world who looked down on her and her position in life. She never let that damper her spirit or change who she was. She repeatedly taught me the lesson of \u201cif they\u2019re picking on me, they\u2019re leaving some other poor soul alone.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She spent her career taking care of people society forgot and likes to pretend doesn\u2019t exist. To her, the residents at the Middletown Psychiatric Center were just as human as anyone else, they only needed a little more help in life.<\/p>\n<p>She never came out and said, you must help others. She continually showed it by her actions. If you needed a ride somewhere or was short on cash to cover your bills, she was there to help. She juggled her schedule and shifted funds to make sure someone else was okay. She was one of the helpers Mister Rogers always talked about. She was there, showing up and pitching in, whenever help was needed.<\/p>\n<p>She helped in small ways and didn\u2019t often talk about the things she did. When soldiers in Afghanistan complained their heads were cold at night, she joined a group who made and donated crocheted beanies to keep them warm. She used to belong to a volunteer group who provided her a bag of groceries in exchange for 20 hours of volunteer work per month. She felt she got the better deal.<\/p>\n<p>When I was five-years-old, I went to afternoon kindergarten. My aunt and sister were both sick with the flu one week, so I was told I had to walk home by myself after school. Mom didn\u2019t tell me until I was in my 30s, but the 6\/10 mile walk home took me the better part of an hour. As Mom told me, \u201cYou had to stop and pick up a stick. Then, there were little rocks you looked at. When you got to the stream, you wandered over and played in it. You had to pick up everything and examine it before continuing. I wanted to shout at you and tell you to hurry up, but I told you that you could walk home alone.\u201d She stood at the intersection of Hulse Avenue and Corwin Avenue every day to watch and make sure I was okay, but made sure I didn\u2019t see her so I could build some confidence in myself.<\/p>\n<p>When I was 14, we scrimped and saved so that I could participate in my French class\u2019s trip to France and Italy. It was difficult and she would never tell me how much she gave up to make it happen, but she wanted to give me something I never had. The day before I was set to leave, I was hesitant. I would miss two weeks of the soap opera I wanted to watch. We didn\u2019t own a VCR. Mom told me, \u201cDon\u2019t be a dumbass, Irene. It\u2019s just a stupid show. Go and have fun.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When I returned, there was a notebook sitting on my grandmother\u2019s couch with my name on it. Mom left it before she went to work. Inside was two week\u2019s of handwritten notes from the show. Mom didn\u2019t know the character\u2019s names, but she described them well. There was the \u201chandsome man with beautiful black wavy hair, the handsome man\u2019s wife, and Kelly.\u201d I have no idea why she could remember Kelly\u2019s name, but her descriptions were perfect.<\/p>\n<p>I didn\u2019t ask her to do it. I wasn\u2019t expecting it, but there she was, helping someone. When I was 17, I was suspended from school for three days. A classmate was being racist during PE class to another classmate. My PE class was every other day. For seven weeks, I spoke to this classmate, trying to reason with her. I spoke to the five PE teachers, then the four guidance counselors, then the two assistant principals. No one would do anything. One day, I had enough. Fists flew. I even hit one of the female PE teachers when she tried to break up the fight. A male PE teacher broke up the fight. One of the assistant principals showed up in my computer class next period and took me to his office. He called Mom. The principal informed her what happened and then handed the phone to me.<\/p>\n<p>The first thing Mom said was, \u201cDon\u2019t smile when I talk to you.\u201d Mom always taught me to try to find a peaceful solution to everything. However, if fists need to be used, don\u2019t start a fight, but make sure you end it. \u201cDon\u2019t smile\u201d meant I was not going to be in trouble. She explained there would be consequences at school, but I was not going to be grounded. She knew all the steps I had taken up to that point to avoid conflict. She also told me I had to walk home from school because she could not afford to take time off. I was instructed to \u201cwalk straight home and don\u2019t dilly-dally.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>That attitude of understanding arose again when I was 25 and was arrested. A man tried to hit Mom. I stepped in between them, shoved him a few times, knocked him down, and stomped on his crotch. He had me arrested. The charges were later dropped, but when the state trooper showed up, cuffed me, and put me in the back of the patrol car, Mom walked over and tried to get in with me.<\/p>\n<p>She yanked on the door, but it didn\u2019t open. I couldn\u2019t hear her words to the trooper, but the motion of her hands said, \u201copen the door and let me in.\u201d Yeah, Mom went to the police station with me when I got arrested. She didn\u2019t want me to be alone. I think the trooper only complied because she was insistent and he was bewildered by what was happening.<\/p>\n<p>Mom taught me and her grandson, David, life lessons through her actions. I don\u2019t think she ever said, \u201cyou must help others because it\u2019s the right thing to do.\u201d She just did it and we observed. When my husband, Paul, and I moved to Nebraska the first time so he could finish his degree, Mom snuck a frozen turkey into our rented cargo van. I didn\u2019t see it until we were getting gas somewhere in Iowa. When we got to our new apartment and got a phone, I asked her why she did it. \u201cWell, the turkey wanted to see the country, so I gave him a window seat.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She would often show up at David\u2019s house and say things like, \u201cI need some help with a bag in the car,\u201d or \u201cI have something for you in my car.\u201d That something tended to be enough groceries to fill your fridge and your freezer.<\/p>\n<p>Mom also came out to Nebraska for my college graduation. I had just scored a good deal on toilet paper and had about 100 rolls in my closet. One day, about a week after she had left, I found a $20 bill in the middle of a roll of toilet paper. I knew who put it there. I called her on the phone. She reminded me not to \u201cwipe my ass with money,\u201d but to use it for groceries or whatever else I needed. At the time, my monthly grocery bill was $25. It was a lot of money to me. I found twenties strewn randomly throughout my rolls of toilet paper for months.<\/p>\n<p>Mom also taught me to always find the best deals, use coupons, and stash whatever cash you can, even if it\u2019s only 50 cents, because it all adds up. One time she called me and asked, \u201cDo you have a raincoat?\u201d I did not. She said, \u201cWell, you should go get one because I found $100 in mine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Each year, on July 5, Mom would wake me up and sing \u201cHappy Birthday\u201d to me. When I was a teenager, she would sneak into my room ever so quietly and lean in near my ear. Then, she would sing as loud as she could. I was born at 8:19 a.m. Mom calls me at that exact time every year. Except I live two hours behind her. I answer my phone with a groggy \u201chello\u201d and, bam, I\u2019ve got Happy Birthday in my ear. When she was done, she\u2019d laugh and then tell me, \u201cHappy Birthday, brat.\u201d It was annoying and sweet at the same time. I won\u2019t be getting that call anymore, but I saved the one from last year.<\/p>\n<p>When I told my friend, Hendrik, Mom had passed, he reminded of the time when Mom fed him his first servings of Taco Bell. He is from the Netherlands and she was working a second job as a manager there. He told me last week, \u201cWe had the best unhealthy dinner at Taco Bell ever.\u201d Since that summer of 1994, Hendrik has always asked about Mom and how she was doing and Mom often asked how he was doing. Likewise, when my friend, Bas, who is also Dutch, visited, Mom was not happy that he thought Subway was a decent sandwich. She promptly took us all down to Broas\u2019 to get a real sub.<\/p>\n<p>Which brings me to one of Mom\u2019s joys in life \u2013 crocheting. She only ever put down her cup of tea so she could keep crocheting. She made a baby blanket for Hendrik and Salma\u2019s son when he was born. She refused to let me pay for it. Mom also paid for me and Paul to go to Hendrik\u2019s wedding in Tanzania. She was so happy to hear he was getting married, but upset to hear we couldn\u2019t afford to go. I was living in Poughkeepsie at the time. About two hours after I got off the phone with her, she was at my front door. She made me call the airline and purchased the tickets. She was right. It was a trip of a lifetime. I don\u2019t know how or where she got the money to make it happen, but she understood even then, that I love to travel and I love to write. If she could make me happy by helping me out, then she would do what was needed to put a smile on my face.<\/p>\n<p>Her crocheting was loved by everyone. I have a blanket that has been on my bed for nearly 20 years. There are countless others that felt the same warmth of her generosity. She gave, never asking for anything in return. Her entire life was in service to humanity and how to make her little corner of the world a little better place. She provided her kindness mostly without others knowing. I suspect I will never know all that she did for others.<\/p>\n<p>One thing Mom did not like was people swearing. David and I know all too well what \u201cthat look\u201d is, as well as how it feels to be smacked upside your head for using the F word. She never did hit me over the head with a loaf of French bread though. David holds that honor.<\/p>\n<p>After I got the job writing for the Star-Herald newspaper, I called Mom to give her the news. \u201cYou mean you\u2019re finally going to get paid for your writing?\u201d She knew nothing about the area where I lived, but made me send her news articles I wrote, even the boring city council stories. Since she also never threw anything away, I suspect those clippings are still at her house, tucked neatly away somewhere.<\/p>\n<p>When I began winning writing awards at the state and national levels she was happier than me. She knew I didn\u2019t get paid much money at the job, barely above minimum wage as that\u2019s what the industry pays, but I was happy, so she was happy. She also never cared what I did for work in life. She just wanted me to be happy. When I told her of my Associated Press awards, she said, \u201choly shit, that\u2019s awesome.\u201d I quickly reminded her that sometimes, it\u2019s appropriate to swear.<\/p>\n<p>When I broke the news to Hendrik, he told me he has always remembered her as \u201ca caring and hard-working lady,\u201d and said he was going to miss her. She was the warmth that brightened a room. She kept us warm when we were cold and lifted our spirits when they were down. She gave freely of herself and never pretended to be better than anyone else. Her life was an example of how we can always do better. Her flame reminded us every life is precious. There will never be another person quite like Mom and the world is a little less fucking bright now without her in it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I created the video above, including the music, which was shown at my mother\u2019s funeral. I spoke the following words to all the people who came to say goodbye to Mom on April 15. Today is the one-year anniversary of Mom&#8217;s head-on collision. I&#8217;d like to remember this day with the positives Mom contributed to [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[417,257],"class_list":["post-4201","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-ramblings","tag-mom","tag-new-york"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4201","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4201"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4201\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4203,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4201\/revisions\/4203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4201"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4201"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/irenenorth.com\/writings\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4201"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}